Failte
by morning's-broken-angel
Summary: After three long years, the MacManus men have returned to Boston at Agent Smecker's behest, but time marches on and the brothers discover that even avenging angels need more in their lives than bringing the wicked to judgement. Primarily Murphy/OC
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I saw the news that BDS 2 is a go and it reminded me- I've had the beginnings of this story on my computer for eons now and figured it was time to dust it off and let you all have a crack at it. Let me know what you think, good, bad or indifferent!

-MBA

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The battered old grandfather clock in the hall had just begun to chime nine o'clock when she heard the pounding on the kitchen door. All of Katie Fennessy's chicks were tucked safely in the house, so when she went to the door to answer, she left the chain across. Couldn't be too careful in this neighborhood. She peered through the crack between the solid oak door and the frame. "Yes?"

Two men, one dark and one light, stood in the pool of dirty yellow light in the small back garden. The blond, wiry and grim, stepped forward with both hands in the air. "'M lookin' to find Dhurata Zareed," he said, the lilt in his voice unmistakable. "Heard tell she was living here." He studied the small woman, or what he could see of her with the bright interior lights at her back, and added a lopsided smile and a dash of charm. "Don't mean any harm, ma'am, but she took somethin' o' mine that I'll be needin' back."

Katie sighed even as she fingered the sheathed knife affixed to the doorframe, carefully unsnapping the guard and easing the blade out to slide it up into her sleeve. Dhurata, all of seventeen and brash as a brass lamp, had a habit of stealing things that Katie knew would one day get her in serious trouble, and here was the proof standing in front of her. Even had she been simple and innocent, she'd know these two were the kind of business to stay away from.

The aura of leashed violence fairly rolled off of them despite their attempt to look harmless. They meant to be talking to Dhurata one way or another. Better to do what she could to control the situation. "Weapons," she said evenly. "I know you have them." She nodded at a half rotted wicker basket on the stoop. "Put all of them in the basket, please. I'll not have two armed strangers in my house. Unloaded, as well."

Two Glock 9mm pistols left underarm holsters in tandem and were checked for an engaged safety before the clips were ejected. Katie's eyebrow went up a notch as they placed their guns in the basket, but she gave them a practiced sweep of inspection as they bent to the task. "You, blondie, can empty that inner pants holster as well, if you please." Her gaze shifted to the other. "And the dark devil here can remove that ankle piece." The comforting weight of the blade in her hand made her add, "And any knives you've got strapped on, too. I'll be making you shift clothing to prove you're unarmed, so you'd do well to be straightforward about it."

The brothers looked at one another, silently wondering where such a small scrap of a woman had come from that she'd known exactly where their backup weapons were. Murphy grinned. "That's a neat bit o' trick ye've there, lady. Bending ta drop the guns showed the weight o' other ones, didn't it?"

She nodded. So they were reasonably intelligent. "An old method I learned in another life, but it works well enough. If you came to shoot, you'd have done so already, but I'd be a fool to have two armed men in my house." She shifted her weight. "All right, off with the jackets. Lift the sleeves of your shirts first, then the hems and turn a circle. Next the waistbands of your jeans and finally the pants legs, turning again." As they complied with her orders, Katie thought she detected identical amused smiles on their faces.

"December in Boston isn't the time o' year I'd be choosin' ta do a strip tease, lady. I just need ta be speakin' ta Dhurata and we'll be outta yer hair quick enough."

Adjusting her grip on the blade in her right hand, Katie slid it further up her sleeve until it snicked into the forearm harness she always wore. Feeling a bit more in control, she stepped back and disengaged the chain. Opening the door, she said, "Come in then, and mind the top step. The wood's a bit rotten."

As they trudged past her into the kitchen, she noted the identical tattoos on their necks with interest and found they also shared etchings of a cross on their arms and a Latin word along one hand. Katie's lips twitched. "Lovers or brothers?"

They spun as one to face her, each radiating alert wariness. The blond gaped at her. "And what be makin' ye think we're either?"

Katie smiled fatly. Certain skills never really faded, she thought with satisfaction as she noted the reactions of each man. Neither was overly tall or beefy, but they reminded her of alley cats- all lean muscle, tough as nails and a force to be reckoned with when you were between them and something they wanted. She trusted her gut on these things. It hadn't failed her before. "Brothers then."

Now it was the darker one's turn to stare at her, the Irish brogue thick with amazement. "Christ Jesus, what are ye, a fuckin' mindreader?"

Her hands snapped to her hips automatically. "There's children in this house, and I'll thank you to be minding your mouth. No f-word allowed." Her lips tipped up. "And I'm a witch, or so I'm told at least seven times a day. And who are you two, then?"

When the dark-haired one scowled and opened his mouth, the blond touched his arm gently and looked at him. Having reached some sort of silent agreement, he said, "Me name's Connor and this is me idiot brother, Murphy. He pops off at the mouth, but he's harmless." Wincing at the sharp elbow he got in the ribs from his affronted brother, Connor asked, "And who might ye be?" The question was asked with interest as his eyes swept over her. What with the exchange in the back garden and her demeanor, he'd thought she was a middle-aged woman running a boarding house, but she couldn't have seen her twenty-fifth year.

Katie sighed. If they knew Dhurata was staying here, it'd be easy enough for them to find out her name, too. "Katie Fennessy, at your service. I run this nut house."

"That's fuckin' obvious," Murphy muttered grumpily. When he met two sets of disapproving eyes, he rubbed the nape of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry! Christ, Connor, but it feels like Ma starin' me down with a spoon. I ain't had ta watch me words for years." His dark eyes, which Katie couldn't quite make out the color of, flashed in annoyance. "Don't know why a girl younger than me feels like Ma, but there it is."

She couldn't help it. Katie grinned, walked to the battered kitchen table and pulled out a chair, waving them to seats as well. It wouldn't hurt to chat with them a few minutes; it'd help her size them up better. "Didn't your mother tell you?" she said, feeling mischievous. The dark one's discomfort was as amusing as any of the teens she had tucked upstairs. Leaning forward conspiratorially, she braced her arms on the table, automatically cocking the right one so the movement wouldn't give away the wicked blade concealed along the underside of her arm. "Kids really do come with manuals. Chapter Three is on how to scold and put snotty children in their place."

Connor snorted. He liked this woman, though there were some things about her that triggered alarms in his brain, like the way she shifted weight on her right arm. As she teased Murphy about manuals and how they came with a wooden spoon, he studied her body movements across the table. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she had a knife sheath on her forearm, which made her left-handed like him. It wasn't like he was planning on getting into a scuffle with her, but life had taught him to take information like that and file it away. It might save his or Murphy's life at some point.

"Yer fuc- freakin' lyin'," Murphy accused mildly, amending himself before the curse slipped out, but it was damned hard. It was near automatic these days to use 'fuck' as everything from a noun to a verb to an adjective. He used it in ways that would make old Mrs. Murray, his primary school teacher, turn in her grave, God rest her soul. "If ye've got teenaged kids, then I'm the bleedin' Pope."

Katie tapped down on the surge of amusement and crossed her heart. "I do. Four of them upstairs, right this very moment, and two little ones besides."

Murphy's eyebrows rose to nearly his hairline, giving him a comical look. "Six fu- freakin' children? Did ye start havin' babies when ye were still in nappies, woman?"

Connor jabbed his brother in the ribs as payback for Murphy's earlier swipe and was gratified at his grunt of pain. "Don't be so gullible. She's pullin' your leg."

"Aren't you the sharp one?" She tossed her dark braid over her shoulder. "Maybe I didn't carry them, but they're mine all the same. They all needed a home and someone to be minding how they grow up. I've got a set of eight year old twins, a fifteen year old boy, another girl the same age, and a sixteen year old that just found out she's pregnant." Pushing back her chair, Katie held Connor's blue gaze. "Which brings us to my oldest girl up there, Dhurata. I'd like to know the story before you go scarin' the life out of her."

He blinked slowly and settled back in the rickety chair. "Didn't know she was only a kid," Connor started sheepishly, fingering the wooden rosary hanging around his neck. "Met Dhurata at the bar an'…" He flushed to the roots of his blondish-brown hair and cleared his throat.

Ah. Katie fit the pieces together quickly. "If it makes you feel better, I've taken three very good fake IDs off her since she came to live here. I've had a sneaking suspicion that she'd gotten another. And she looks older than she is."

Grasping at her offered explanation, Connor nodded rapidly. "Aye, thought she was in her early twenties. She said she worked at a foster home."

Katie shook her head with a rueful smile. "The best lies always have an element of truth," she sighed, not noticing the sharp look that passed between the brothers. Smacking a hand on the table, she jumped up. "I'll be putting the kettle on for tea. Would you like any?"

The offer was surprising, given that they were strangers that showed up in the dark, but both Murphy and Connor nodded unenthusiastically. Americans' version of tea was an abomination, pale little bags barely steeped or worse, microwaved. Murphy shuddered at the memory of his first cup of tea in the States. It was like drinking week-old dishwater. He didn't often long for the country of his childhood, but he did entertain a fantasy about a proper tea now and then even though he had accustomed himself to the bitter bite of coffee.

After setting the old kettle to boil, Katie leaned against the stove and crossed her arms. "So you met Dhurata at some bar. What happened then?" Connor flushed again and Murphy scowled. With a dark humor, she quipped, "Please tell me she didn't wait until you were stinkin' drunk and then picked your pockets. I thought I'd broken her of that."

Murphy flashed even white teeth as he grinned at her. "Sure, and he was completely piss-faced drunk, off drowning his snit in a bottle of Jameson's. When I finally showed up ta cart his sorry self ta bed, he was sitting next to a pile o' his own sick in the alley."

"Oh, aye, an' it's all me fault, ye fuckin' idiot." When she cleared her throat sharply, he dipped his head. "Sorry. But if me moron brother here hadn't picked that night to act like some squalling babe who'd lost his teddy, I wouldn't be soothin' me temper with whisky."

The kettle whistling sharply gave her a ready excuse to turn and hide her amusement. For two guys that gave off the 'dangerous' vibe like they did, the Irishmen were astoundingly similar to the pack of teens she called family- never happy unless they were poking and instigating at every turn, picking fights for the hell of it. Katie pulled out the old ceramic teapot and filled it with boiling water before moving over to dig the tin of tea out of the pantry. She allowed herself a quick snicker with the pantry door as her cover. Men were nothing but big kids after all.

"So Dhurata fits into this how?" Katie emptied the pot into the sink, quickly measured out the tea leaves into the warmed pot and poured more boiling water in. Hearing the telltale squeak of the floorboards as someone passed the island, she turned just in time to see Connor peer right over her head at the teapot as if he'd seen a ghost. She gave him a light shove to the chest, just enough to tear his attention away from the gaudy pink-flowered pot she'd had her whole life. "Is there a reason you've got my spleen having an intimate meeting with the counter?"

He blinked once, slowly, before backing up a step and giving her a brilliant grin. "Katie Fennessy, yer a good Irish lass!" Connor proclaimed, looking as if he wanted to hug her.

"The name didn't tip you off?" Her voice was dry enough to suck to moisture from a sponge.

He did hug her then, bending down and catching her by surprise. Yes, that was definitely a blade along her right arm. He found himself glad for some reason that she would be armed before allowing strangers in her home. Smart lady. Connor released her and whirled to beam ridiculously at his brother. "Are ye seein' what I am, Murphy m'boy?"

"Tea," he breathed reverently, his eyes shining with hope. "From me mouth to the Lord's ears, real tea!"

Katie looked between them, suddenly wondering if she'd seriously misjudged their intelligence. Both men looked on the verge of dropping to their knees to pray. "As opposed to fake tea?"

Leaning forward in his chair, Murphy buried his face in his hands. "Ye make a proper pot o' tea, Katie. Ye didn't put a bag in a cup and microwave it."

She shuddered. "My grandmother would rise from her grave to haunt me forever if I did. Ugh." She wrinkled her nose.

Moving back to lean against the refrigerator, Connor sighed happily. "And what was the name o' this paragon of Irish womanhood, so I can put her in me prayers tonight?"

"Joan Ogden," she replied, her tongue firmly tucked in her cheek. "From Gloucester."

"English!" They both looked at her in horror, but Murphy pointed rudely and said, "Bloody English bastards. Yer none o' theirs. Yer Irish, ye even look it."

She sent him a glare. What was it about the Irish that if you had an ounce of their blood, they claimed you as their own? She was a mutt and damned proud of it. "I'm American, actually, born and raised."

Murphy swallowed the nasty retort that sprang to his lips when she turned that disapproving little look on him. She wasn't his ma, dammit, and he didn't have to act as if she were. "An' where'd your folk come from, then? Fennessy is as Irish as it gets."

"My father's grandparents came over from Ireland way back, making me third generation American. My mother's mother emigrated after World War Two from England and there you are. A typical American mixed pedigree. The only thing she brought with her besides her clothes was an abnormal fondness for tea that my mother inherited and passed down to me." She stabbed a finger at the teapot. "Now what do you want in your tea?"

Connor gave her an absurdly hopeful look. "Ye don't have cream, do ye? If ye do, I'll get down on one knee and marry ye now."

There was nothing to do but shake her head. "I am so not getting a proposal from some random hoodlum that showed up at my door armed in the middle of the night." Motioning him away from the refrigerator, she burrowed into its depths. "And you're in luck." Her voice came out muffled. "I've half a carton in here from teaching the kids how to make whipped cream. It's not even expired," she added triumphantly, emerging with the cream only to be picked up around the waist and exuberantly kissed on the cheek.

"Yer a saint, Katie."

She shoved the cream at him and moved warily to the pantry. "No kissing me," she warned with a finger pointed at him. "I don't even know you. For all I know, you could be a cold-blooded killer, which makes you very much not my type." Katie whirled to Murphy, who was straddling the chair backwards now, his chin resting on his crossed arms on the back. "I suppose you'll want cream, too?"

The irony of her words weren't lost on either brother. Murphy eyed her lazily, finding her discomfort at Connor's display of joyous gratitude amusing and fitting for her earlier treatment of him. He decided to add to her uneasiness by pasting a sweet smile to his own lips. "Lemon and honey, if ye've got either, but I'll drink the whole pot as is right now if I have ta and be glad for it after. Ye may have ta decide which brother's proposal to accept."

She eyed him beadily. "I liked you better when you were annoying and rude, Murphy. Thankful meekness doesn't sit well on you."

Connor snorted. "Meek, me arse. Murph's the nastiest lump you'll ever meet, and he's a rotten sense o' humor, ta boot."

They grinned at one another as she harrumphed and banged about in the pantry, finally emerging with a bottle of honey and a sugar jar with a plastic lemon container balanced precariously on top. "No fresh lemon, but I have a bottle of lemon juice here that'll do you."

Dumping everything on the table and giving Murphy's foot a not-so accidental stomping on her way for the cups, spoons and teapot, Katie shook her head and stopped cold. This whole scene was absurd. Well, she'd already made the damned tea and gotten their hopes up. Too late to demand they tell her what Dhurata stole so she could see it returned and shove them out the door. She scooped everything onto a tray and brought it back to the table as the brothers leaned forward in their seats with identical faces that would have been more appropriate on men in a strip club. "Oh, now that's just wrong," she murmured and, at the questioning eyebrow she got from Murphy, Katie clarified, "You look like men gathered around a stripper pole, not a teapot."

He gave her a devilish look. "Now how would ye be knowin' what a man's face looks like at a titty bar? Do ye have a secret life as a Candy or Bambi, Katie?"

Katie snatched the cup he was about to add lemon juice to. "Go on then, you can just watch us drink this whole lovely pot of tea all by ourselves."

Connor smiled nastily at his brother and took a sip from his teacup, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes back in his skull as he moaned. "Oh, saints above, that's good. Aye, Murph, you'll be missin' out on a truly wonderful tea." He reached over to pat his brother's shoulder and got a swift punch to the side for his teasing.

"Gimme the tea back," Murphy groaned, looking longingly at the steaming cup in front of Katie.

"Can you keep your mouth shut?" She was being arch, but she found that something about the dark-haired brother annoyed her. She chalked it up to being opposing personalities, but there was nothing wrong with tweaking him just a bit. "Say 'please'."

Murphy looked between the cup and her smug little face, narrowing his eyes as her blue ones danced with merriment. Damn her, she had his back to the wall and she knew it. "Please." His voice could have chipped ice and his eyes promised retribution, but she didn't know him well enough to realize that.

Handing him the cup with a self-satisfied smile, Katie returned her attention to Connor. "Is he always so moody?"

"Ye should see him on a bad day," he said before diving back into the tea and simultaneously avoiding the kick aimed at his shin under the table. "Ye need to stop telegraphin' yer moves, Murph. Saw that kick comin' a mile away."

Draining her cup and reaching for the pot, Katie glanced up, sorting out the scant facts she'd gathered thus far. "So you met Dhurata in a bar and you were drunk. What did she take and do I need to buy her a pregnancy test?" Her voice was perfectly calm, as if she was asking if there'd be snowfall that week.

When Connor spewed the tea in his mouth all over himself and began coughing fitfully, Murphy leaned over and pounded his brother on the back, all the while glaring at Katie. "Christ, woman, ye've the timing of Satan himself."

Winding down to a wheeze, Connor gasped, "An' where would we be doin' what yer implyin' in a bar?" He dragged a hand over his face. "'Twasn't more than a bit o' a snog outside, but I was good an' pissed. Never realized she lifted it off me until I woke up the next morning without it."

Nodding, Katie automatically handed him a napkin to mop up the mess. "And you checked to make sure you didn't just drop whatever you're missing or leave it at home?"

His fingers played with his wooden rosary and Connor closed his eyes for a moment. When he spoke, there was a deep sorrow in his voice. "It was a present from Ma that I never take off, and it wasn't at the bar. I asked there first. She's got it, or she's sold it and knows where I can go ta buy it back." He sighed. "Murph, show the lady what me necklace looks like."

Slowly, Murphy unfastened the top buttons of his shirt and, bypassing a wooden rosary that matched his brother's, lifted out a silver chain. He leaned forward so she could get a good look. "It's the twin o' this."

"A St. Christopher's Medal." Katie wasn't particularly religious anymore, but she recognized the icon from the faith of her youth. "And that's real silver, if I'm not mistaken."

"Aye." Murphy caught a whiff of her perfume as she leaned in close to him to examine the medal. The scent was some sort of pleasant floral, delicate and feminine and the thought occurred to him that it suited her. An odd thought, to be sure, since he barely knew this woman at all. "Me ma had these made from the same piece o' silver for gifts this Christmas past, so they really are two halves o' a whole. There'll only ever be the two, and they came from a goblet me Da's family had handed down as a charm for good luck. She thought with the two o' us, we should each have its protection."

A lump rose in her throat and Katie wondered at the rush of emotion. "That's lovely," she said quietly, running a finger over the medal one last time before sitting back in her seat. "And that means you're twins, then."

They nodded together and Katie stood up. "All right, let's go up there and get your necklace back and-" She folded her arms and sent a burning scowl up at the ceiling. "And I've a mind to let you scare the daylights out of her before I ground her until she's of legal age."

"First, do ye have a toilet I could use?" Connor looked apologetic. "I've a powerful need for one."

Katie nodded towards the refrigerator. "Turn the corner there and it's on the left."

Silence reigned as Connor jumped up from the table and followed her directions. She turned to the other brother, who had propped himself against the island counter with a deceptive ease. He was fishing about in the breast pocket of his workshirt for something.

Murphy tapped a cigarette out of his pack with a practiced gesture and set his lighter to the end just as the filter touched his lips. He watched in amazement as her little freckled face darkened and she flew across the room at him before he could even take a decent puff.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed, literally slapping the cigarette out of his mouth before crushing it beneath her heel on the scarred wooden floor. "Didn't I just tell you a few minutes ago that I had a pregnant girl here?"

She was just a foot away, hands fisted on her hips and head tilted back so she could glare up at him haughtily and he had to struggle not to pick her up and shake her. Or turn her over his knee. Or kiss her silly. He wanted to do all three, for this slip of a woman got beneath his skin and irritated him like a sliver that had been left to fester, and he'd only known her less than an hour. He pitied the poor people living upstairs. "You'd do well to shut yer mouth, woman," he growled, eyes narrowed as he used a sudden burst of temper to bury the strange desire to shut her up by covering her mouth with his own. He'd always been good at hiding one emotion with another. "I forgot ye'd said that, and all ye had to do was be askin' nicely. I'd have put it out without ye slappin' at me like some squawkin' guinea hen."

"Guinea hen?" He was outrageous. A guinea hen, indeed. She'd smack that scowl right off his face and then she'd use that big mouth of his to wipe the floor. Katie felt her blood surge and her temper rise. "I'll give you a slap to whine about, you jack-assed son of a-"

"Sweet Mother above." Connor stood in the door of the bathroom and studied his brother incredulously. "I leave ye alone for two minutes, Murph, an' yer drivin' the poor woman to cursing. Did you not get an ounce of MacManus charm, then?"

Katie colored and took several steps back, because she was afraid that he had gotten a good dose of that so-called charm. She knew the look in a man's eye when he wanted to kiss her, and unless she was very mistaken, that look had drifted through his blue eyes a moment before. And they were blue, she realized with another rush of color blooming on her cheeks. A very unusual and nice blue that would look black in anything less than direct light because of the heavy lids. She took another step back. Or up close. Kissing-distance close let you see the blue irises, too.

Interested now, Connor stuffed his hands in his pockets and surveyed the scene. Katie, who'd shown nothing but an iron backbone since she'd opened the door, was blushing like a virgin in a whorehouse and backpedaling so fast that she'd bump her arse on the table in a moment. Murphy, on the other hand, was trying to glare a hole through the wall as a muscle jumped in his cheek. Well. Very interesting. "Shall we go and pay young Dhurata a visit?" he asked mildly.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I just wanted to thank those of you who left such lovely reviews- they're thoroughly appreciated.

Love,

MBA

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Chapter Two

Pushing aside her embarrassment at her reaction to Murphy, Katie glanced up at the clock. "If you want your necklace back tonight, we should talk to her soon. Dhurata usually goes to bed by ten-thirty on school nights."

Both men turned and moved for the hallway door at the same time. It really was remarkable how often they mirrored one another, Katie thought as she gathered the tea makings on the tray to deposit by the sink. She wondered if Matt and Russ would be so attuned to one another in twenty years.

Connor gave Murphy a considering look as his brother leaned against the wall next to him and lazily watched Katie go about washing the few dishes. Oh, he could make all the fuckin' noise he wanted about how irritating she was, but his eyes still tracked her every movement. He wanted to grin, but Connor settled for flicking his brother's ear.

"Ow! What was that for, ye shit?" Murphy cupped his throbbing ear indignantly. Fucking Connor. He'd just been standing there minding his own business and gotten flicked for his trouble. Bastard.

Two minutes. It took Katie just two minutes to pick up and wash the dishes and already the two were poking and cursing at one another. "How you ever made it to maturity is beyond me. Your poor mother must have either been a saint or popping Zoloft like candy."

The minor scuffle ceased as both men grinned. Murphy gave his ear another rueful rub. "Ma'd laugh her arse off ta hear ye call her a saint. She always said the best way ta raise us was with one hand on the whisky bottle an' the other on the Bible."

"I can believe it," she muttered, setting the teapot in the drainer. Eyeing the clock, Katie decided she could wipe down the table later. "All right, let's go get the thieving little brat." Trusting them to follow, Katie trooped out through the swinging door into the hallway and waited at the base of the stairs by the front door.

Connor poked his head out after she cleared her throat pointedly and said, "Can ye give us jes' a minute? There's somethin' I've been dying ta say ta me brother." When she waved a hand in resignation, he disappeared back into the kitchen with a mischievous grin plastered to his face.

Murphy ran his tongue over his lips, a habit of his when he was curious. "An' jes' what the fuck is so important that ye have ta say it right this second? Or was I mistaken when ye were in an all-fired hurry ta drag me out o' a nice, warm pub ta walk all the way over here ta get yer medal?"

Keeping one ear tuned to the impatient shuffling of Katie down the hall, Connor gave his brother a long, appraising look before he asked, "When's the last time ye been fucked, Murph?"

"Christ, Conn!" he exploded before cutting his eyes to the door and dropping his voice to a whisper. "What the hell kind o' question is that, ye nosy bastard?"

The shock on Murphy's face was almost comical, but Connor had a point to be making and not much time to be doing it in. "The kind a brother is entitled ta ask when he sees ye slavering like a starvin' dog at a juicy bone." He raised an eyebrow as his brother spluttered and shook his head emphatically.

Where the hell had that come from? Murphy felt a little shell-shocked. Sure and she was reasonably pretty in a clean-scrubbed kind of way, but the woman had the personality of Napoleon after the exile. He'd never met a bossier, pricklier woman, Ma included- and that was saying something. "I find me a quick, uncomplicated fuck when the urge takes me, not that it's any o' yer business." His voice was rough with embarrassment. They shared almost everything, but sexual encounters were where Murphy drew the line. You had to do some things alone, dammit, and fucking was one of them.

Connor glanced over his shoulder at the door and said hurriedly, "Maybe it's not me business, but yer never goin' ta land her if ye keep actin' like a first rate jackass."

It was hard, but Murphy bit back his retort as the door swung open and Katie peeked through.

"Family meetings are great and all, but I'd like to get to bed sometime before Christmas, if you two don't mind."

Giving her a jovial slap on the shoulder, Connor squeezed past Katie into the hall. "Let's go get me medal." Just to be perverse, Connor made sure his brother was the one directly behind Katie as she mounted the stairs. Attraction was well and good, but having a sweetly rounded female arse directly in your eye-line never hurt, either. He smirked when Murphy threw a dirty look over his shoulder.

He knew exactly what Connor was doing, that meddling bastard. Still, and he'd suffer a good deal of torture before admitting it, she did have a beautiful arse. The urge to reach out and cup it was strong, but Murphy just stored everything away to be taken care of in the shower later when he was alone. Wanking was a time-honored method of self-control for men everywhere.

Both brothers looked around in amazement once they reached the landing. The upstairs hallway had doors everywhere, at least a good half dozen of them. Katie forgotten for the moment, Murphy craned his neck to look in both directions. "Good Lord, no wonder ye've got six kids here. This place has surely got enough room for six more."

Katie laughed. "I told you, this place was a steal for someone willing to put in a little work. It had four bedrooms and two baths, but I insulated and finished the attic so I've got five big bedrooms now. Plenty of room for everyone." Moving off to the right, she paused in front of a door plastered with torn out magazine pages of pouty male models and actors like Brad Pitt. "Please be polite. If she gets obnoxious, I'll handle it. Dhurata can be a little, ah, difficult sometimes, but she's got a heart of gold."

Connor snorted. "Kids wi' hearts o' gold don't have fake IDs an' steal other people's possessions." His voice conveyed his disbelief.

Ceding the point, Katie shrugged. "She's had a rough childhood and some habits die hard, but she would do absolutely anything for me or the kids. She even gave up playing on the basketball team at school to get a job to help pay for food for her brothers and sister."

Confused, Murphy interjected, "Wait- all these kids are from the same family?"

God, these two were curious. Nevertheless, the fact remained that she didn't want to be standing outside Dhurata's door all night giving them the entire unabridged history of every soul in the house. "No. Dhurata's parents came over from Armenia and her father was deported last year for working for the Russian mafia. Her mother's still here with four kids from diapers to Dhurata's seventeen. She couldn't feed them all, so Dhurata came here. Now she's giving her mother most of her paycheck." Katie hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why she stole your necklace. Maybe she's stealing and fencing things again for extra money. I'll have to ask her mom if she's tight on money this month."

The MacManus boys had grown up poor. They knew what it was like to eat potatoes until you wanted to gag because that was all that was in the house when Ma had lost her job, and suddenly Connor's desire to scream at the girl for stealing his precious St. Christopher's Medal evaporated. Maybe they could see that her mother got a bit of help. Katie's thoughts were apparently on the same track.

She worried her lower lip with her teeth a moment before musing, "If I put off buying new spare tires for the cars, I can probably swing a trip to the market for food and diapers and other necessities for them." Shaking off the thought, Katie knocked firmly on the door. "Dhurata, are you dressed? I have someone here that needs to talk to you."

The door was yanked open after a muffled response and Murphy stood gaping at one of the most beautiful faces he'd seen in a long time. A tall girl with strong cheekbones and slanted black eyes stared back at him with mistrust, the stamp of her exotic heritage clear on every feature. "I don't know him and whatever he said I did, I didn't." She flipped her long black hair away from her face defiantly.

Connor stepped into view around the doorframe. "Hello, Dhurata," he said smoothly, a hint of ironic humor making his lips tip up. "I believe ye've got somethin' that belongs ta me."

Her olive skin paled considerably and a wary light came into her glittering eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about." She jutted her jaw out stubbornly. "Katie, I don't know who these guys are, but I need to go to sleep. I've got a history test tomorrow morning."

Katie grinned. "The day I believe you're worried about being well-rested for an exam is the day I'll let you sell me the Brooklyn Bridge." She folded her arms and got serious. "Now I want you to know that he told me everything, including where you were when you stole his necklace." Katie held out a hand and said in a voice that brooked no argument, "I want that ID right now."

Dhurata opened her mouth only to be cut off ruthlessly.

"If you try to lie to me, Dhurata, I'll ground you until Molly's old enough to drink." Katie's blue eyes flashed. "ID. Now."

With an aggrieved sigh and an accusing glare aimed at Connor, Dhurata fished out her purse from a perilously tilting mountain of clothes. Shoving the plastic card in question into Katie's waiting hand, she flounced over to her bed. "There. You've got the stupid ID. Happy now?"

Counting to ten was one of Katie's most frequently exercised methods of dealing with teenagers without losing her mind, and she employed it now. "Why are you stealing again, sweetheart?" She did her best to sound understanding. Of all her kids, Dhurata responded best to coaxing. Shouts just made her so angry that she tuned right out. "When I told you that you could come to me with anything, I meant it. I don't want you going to bars and drinking because I don't want someone to hurt you, not because I want to suck all the fun out of your life. Even if you stole his necklace for a good reason, you didn't know what he was capable of. He could have seriously hurt you- pulled a knife, a gun, anything. You're lucky he turned out to be a good guy."

No one can transmit wounded pride like a teenager, and Dhurata was better at it than most. Murphy had to give her credit when she coaxed a few tears to shimmer prettily on her eyelashes. He still couldn't believe she was only a kid- she really did look the same age as the short woman talking quietly to her. Maybe he wouldn't give Connor that much shit about necking with a kid after all. Hell, he probably would have made the exact same mistake had it been him in the bar that night.

"She's good," Connor whispered quietly at his brother's shoulder. "Look at her face."

Murphy nodded. "Aye. Had we been half that good at her age, Ma'd have never been able ta smack us a good one. Hell, Conn, I still remember the thumpin' I got when she found out it was me that borrowed the car, not Uncle Sibeal."

That was one of Connor's fondest memories, since Murphy had gotten twice the punishment for both stealing the car and blaming the joyriding on him before finally coming clean. He squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Ye deserved that one, ye dunce. Last time ye ever took the car, though, wasn't it? But I was talkin' about Katie, not the lass. Look."

Now that his attention had been redirected, Murphy noted with surprise that his brother was right. Despite the tears, Dhurata was looking increasingly miserable. They were too far away to hear the actual conversation, but Katie was sitting on the bed next to the much-taller girl and holding her hand. Her pale little face practically screamed concern and love and Murphy had the uncomfortable thought that she was indeed a skilled mother. Were Ma here, she'd have been applauding the performance.

After another few minutes of reminding Dhurata that there were ways to help take care of your family without putting your life at risk and pointing out that it would break her mother's heart if Dhurata was deported like her father or worse, killed, Katie knew she'd made her point. There was no need to grind it into the ground. Sparing a quick glance at the brothers –who had surprisingly held their silence in the doorway while she'd talked to Dhurata- she stretched up to press a kiss to the girl's forehead. "I love you, you crazy kid, and you can't change that, but please don't steal again. Come to me- we'll do whatever we have to to make sure your family's okay. Now please give Connor his necklace back. His mom gave it to him and it means a lot."

Connor was astounded when Dhurata pulled the gleaming silver chain and medal out of a pouch and came forward, her cheeks burning with shame. She truly seemed penitent. He accepted the offering silently and dropped a gentle hand on her arm. "Listen ta her, Dhurata. The woman loves ye ta pieces, an' that's a hard thing ta find in life." He smiled kindly. "Stealin's not yer path, lass. Enjoy bein' young and work hard in school so ye can help yer family for the long haul. Stealin' things isn't goin' ta get ye nothin' but enemies an' jail time if ye keep at it."

She nodded, her face still aflame with a blush. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't know it was an heirloom thing." When he held out his hand to her, she tentatively took it and looked at him with confused eyes. "What?"

"Work at a foster home, do ye?" Connor burst into laughter as she groaned and yanked her hand away.

As Katie herded them back downstairs, she smiled to herself. Dhurata had come clean fairly quickly and promised to talk to her tomorrow about what was going on with her family. It was a good, solid start. Now to just get these two out the door so she could fall into bed herself. "Well, it's been interesting," Katie offered cheekily as she pushed into the kitchen and grabbed a sponge from the sink. "I don't think I've ever had two more interesting strangers knock on my door demanding the return of their things."

The weight of the silver chain and medallion once more around his neck was immensely comforting. Connor knew he'd sleep well that night. He watched as Murphy prowled the room. "All the same, we owe ye a debt for bargin' in on ye out o' nowhere in the middle o' the night."

Katie sniffed and swiped the sponge over the length of the table. "That's ridiculous. She stole your necklace, and you were just trying to get it back. You were nothing but pleasant." Her eyes flickered over to where Murphy stood at the back door, staring quietly out into the night. "Well, you were pleasant. Your brother apparently did his best."

Bristling at the backhanded insult, Murphy turned back towards the kitchen and the little woman standing in it mocking him. "Me best? Darlin', ye haven't seen even a speck o' what I'm capable of. When I'm not around foul-tempered harpies, people say I'm a ball o' fuc-freakin' charm an' manly appeal." Christ, he hadn't said a word and here she was attacking him again. Did this woman have some sort of grudge against him?

Connor grinned and stood quietly to the side. He could sell tickets to this shite.

"Oh, I'm sure you're a real Casanova," she scoffed. "Who doesn't swoon when a scruffy, dirty hoodlum shows up armed at her back door on a freezing cold winter night only to insult her at every turn? I mean, you're the one calling me a guinea hen and a harpy, right?" Katie waved him off with a dismissive hand. "I just bet the women are tripping over themselves for you, MacManus. At least your brother here tries."

"Why, you pint-sized pain in the arse! You freckled little mealy-mouthed dictator! I'm no' one o' yer kids ta be ordered about an' talked down ta. I'm a man!"

Now would be a good time to intervene, Connor thought wryly as he stepped between the two as they advanced on each other. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Ye still went out o' yer way ta be nice ta us, Katie, an' ye didn't have ta do that. Murph and I appreciate it." A significant glance and a sharp elbow had Murphy nodding, albeit grudgingly. "We'd like ta repay ye by givin' ye a hand. Do ye have things around the house needin' ta be done? We're fair hands at menial labor. Murphy can even do a bit o' electrical wiring."

Spat with Murphy quickly forgotten, Katie lit up. Wary of strangers she might be, but volunteers for chores she'd been putting off? She'd taken in kids for less. "If you mean it, I do have a few things I haven't had the time or the manpower to get around to."

With a handshake and a grin, Connor sealed the deal and herded a perplexed-looking Murphy to the door. His poor brother was clearly at a loss now that she'd stopped arguing with him mid-insult. "Right then, we'll be stopping by Saturday mornin' after Mass." Halting, he spun around to grab her hand and raised it to his mouth in an old-fashioned gesture. "A real pleasure meetin' ye, Katie Fennessy. I hope ye'll think o' us as friends."

Rolling her eyes, Katie snatched back her hand and swatted at the beaming Irishman. Her cheeks were pink and she knew it. "Flirt," she accused as he stabbed a finger in his brother's side.

"Say goodbye ta the pretty lass, Murph." Connor knew good and damned well his brother was attracted to her, hence the bit of over-the-top flirting on his part. Sometimes a good push helped clear the cobwebs from his twin's head. He hadn't courted a girl properly since they'd left Ireland the first time and if his earlier response was any indication, he hadn't been laid in awhile, either.

"Fuckin' charmed," Murphy growled as he glared at Connor, who just grinned as Katie's sponge smacked Murphy full in the face.

"No f-word!"

Connor laughed all the way back to the dingy motel they were staying in.

* * *

They seemed nice, but Katie wasn't stupid. When she walked the twins over to Mrs. Carrack's the next morning to catch the bus, she'd already decided to do a bit of research on Murphy and Connor MacManus.

After the boys had shuffled into the tidy sitting room to watch cartoons, Katie motioned her neighbor and dear friend closer as she double-checked backpacks for homework and lunches. Meggie Carrack had lived in this neighborhood for forty-odd years and knew just about everything about everyone. "I had some visitors last night- a set of Irish brothers by the name of MacManus. Both about thirty or so. Murphy and Connor. Ever heard of them?"

Mrs. Carrack's wrinkled face froze in surprise before she carefully schooled her features. "Why were they visiting?"

Head still buried in Russ' bag, Katie missed her neighbor's initial reaction. "Dhurata stole something off one of them and they found out where she lived. You know, all things considered, they were very nice about it. No yelling or threats. They just wanted the necklace back." With a hum of success, she dug out the math homework she'd been looking for and scanned the answers quickly. He'd done well with the improper fractions they'd been working on. "They even offered to come back and help around the house this weekend for the trouble. I just wanted to know if there was any dirt on them I should know about, and you're the lady to ask around these parts, Meggie."

Those were two names Meghan Carrack thought she'd never hear again, but something told her not to impart the tale of the infamous Saints of South Boston just yet. Their cleanup of the south side's worst scum was something Meggie was eternally grateful for, and everyone knew they didn't harm the innocent. Still, Katie hadn't returned to Boston until months after the Yakavetta trial and would flip out if she knew her visitors were Boston's once-notorious vigilantes. She was very protective of the children. Meggie cleared her throat quickly and patted her iron-grey hair into place. "The names ring a bell, but I don't think we've ever met. You're sure Dhurata's not in trouble with them or anything?"

Katie shook her head and gave her watch a quick check. "Nope. I was there the whole time. Neither of them was ever alone with her. You don't think they're dangerous, do you?"

"Oh no, dear. I'm sure they meant well. In fact, now that I reflect a bit, I believe they did a bit of community service around these parts a few years back, but I thought they'd left town." Mrs. Carrack shepherded her towards the door. "Now you're going to be late for work if we keep jawing. If you're still curious about those boys, you can stop by Ned's Market after work. He's always got a gaggle of old fogies hanging around in the afternoons. I think Artie there knew the MacManus boys fairly well." Oh yes, Artie knew them and would give Katie a glowing reference. Frankly, Meggie thought her young neighbor could make much worse friends. "Off you go now; I promised the boys I'd make them hot cocoa this morning."

Katie let herself be swept out the door to a chorus of goodbyes from the twins. Wrapping her scarf around her neck, she readjusted her purse and strode off for the train station. If she hurried, she could still catch the 7:05.

* * *

Ned's Market was a typical South Boston mom-and-pop store that had been around for the better part of a hundred years. The soda fountain counter was still intact and had become an ad hoc deli area where Ned, named after his grandfather, sat around with his buddies in the afternoon and played chess and bitched about the sad state of the Celtics.

The kids loved the place because he sold soda and candy half-price on Fridays, and Katie had been dragged there more times than she could count in the last three years. Sailing through the front doors, she called out a cheerful greeting to the pack of men crammed around a small television set.

"Argh!" the cluster of old men roared in unison as Ned slapped his cleaning rag against the counter in disgust. "Damned Bruins are gettin' killed."

Katie slid onto a cracked vinyl-covered stool and checked the score of the hockey game on the TV. "Wow. The Rangers are really schooling them." She smiled warmly at old Ned. "Meggie sent me down here for a bit of gossip."

Jack Leary, a florid-faced man that was pushing ninety, gave her a wide grin. He was very proud of his shiny new dentures and took every opportunity to show them off. "When are you goin' to marry me, dear? You wait much longer and I'll be past my prime."

That inspired a round of laughter as Katie endured the friendly ribbing. Living in a close-knit lower middle class Irish neighborhood meant everyone was constantly trying to marry her off. Her adamant refusal to go on anything more than a casual date had made the gossip rounds more than a few times. She pressed a fond kiss to Jack's papery cheek. "I don't think I could keep up with you, Jack. You're too much man for me."

"What brings you down for gossip, love?" Ned leaned on the counter and pushed a ginger ale over to her. He knew everyone's favorite drinks by heart. "This group of old biddies knows everything."

She took a sip and looked around. "Meggie said you and a guy called Artie know something about two men by the name of MacManus."

All five turned from the television to stare at her. One man down at the end with a wispy white comb-over and a tweed vest peered at her through thick coke-bottle eyeglasses. "Th-th-the MacManus boys? What do ye want to be knowin' about th-them for?"

Katie shrugged and began to fiddle with the label of her soda. "I got a surprise visit from them last night. My oldest stole something from Connor MacManus and they came to get it back." She nodded to the man in the vest. "Are you Artie?"

"In the f-flesh, dear." His eyes twitched behind the lenses. "Connor and Murphy came to s-see you?"

An announcer from the Bruins game began to shout as they scored a goal, but not a single face turned towards the set. All eyes were glued to the brown-haired girl in their midst. Ned coughed and twisted the rag in his hands. "What do you want to know about them, Katie?" His voice carried a hint of nervousness.

Things were strained, and Katie wondered at the cause. Were the MacManus men something to be concerned about after all? God, she hoped not. Selfishly, Katie hoped they were perfectly nice guys. She really needed help picking up and refinishing the furniture Mrs. Baldwin's niece was holding for her. Lucy and Molly's bedroom sets were about to fall apart, and if she didn't get the floodlight on the front porch fixed the house was liable to burn down. She couldn't afford an electrician. The one she'd gotten a quote from wanted almost six hundred dollars to rewire it. "Anything you know about them would help. Are they dangerous?"

Suddenly, the tension eased. Artie laughed. "There's no reason for you to fear them, dear. They're g-g-good boys. I've known them for years and I'd trust them with my life."

Katie sighed in relief. "So they're safe to have around the kids?" At the matching looks of inquiry she got, Katie blushed. "They offered to come by this weekend and help me around the house."

Ned's rheumy brown eyes twinkled. "About time you had a man around to help you, Katie. Meggie's been burning my ears for years about how you refuse to get yourself a man. Her grandnephew is devastated. He's been mooning over you since he met you at last summer's Fourth of July party."

God, the whole damn neighborhood was up in her business. She'd date when she was good and ready, and not a second before. Besides, not many men wanted to date a twenty-seven year old with six kids. Katie raised her ginger ale in a salute. "They're coming as friends, not prospective husbands, you nosy old women, but I'm sure you'll have the whole neighborhood yapping about it soon enough." She shrugged back into her coat. "Thanks, guys, but I'd better get home. The high school bus should be through soon."

"Give Meggie my best," Ned called after her. "And if one of them asks you out, you say yes!" A wave of laughter carried her out of the store.

* * *

Things start to get interesting, Saints-style, in the next chapter. As much as I love writing a good romance, it's hardly a BDS fic without some interesting baddies to muck things up, right? As always, I love reviews, so take a second and let me know what you think so far.

Thanks! -MBA


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Again, thank you all for the lovely reviews. For such a relatively small fandom here at FFN, I'm really shocked by the response I've gotten. This chapter came out a few days early purely because **A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch** admitted to having a short attention span for chaptered fics. I aim to please.

Love,

MBA

* * *

Chapter Three

The note under their door had appeared sometime during the night while both brothers were sleeping. It was a simple, typewritten message to be at the Lakeview Lunch Deli at midday. Given the significance of the place, they both made sure to be armed to the teeth before they left.

Sitting in a booth in back was a face they hadn't seen in almost four years, all razor-sharp cheekbones and wide, colorless lips. Connor had once joked that Paul Smecker's face looked like someone had stretched the skin too tight and then let it go to flap around the mouth. It was an eerily accurate description. Still, it was good to see the man again.

"The MacManus boys back in Boston," Smecker drawled as they slid into the booth across from him. He pushed his plate to the side. "What's the world coming to?"

Connor gave him a toothy grin as he leaned forward to shake the FBI agent's proffered hand. "Seein' as yer the one that pulled strings for our visas ta go through ta come back, I'm thinkin' ye can't flash the surprise card. Thanks for the motel room, though. Didn't think I'd be so happy ta see me original weapons again, but me fuckin' eyes lit up when we found the duffle bags in the room." Taking a cigarette from the case Smecker offered, he settled back against the vinyl seat. "How the hell ye been? An' more important, why'd ye go ta all the trouble ta get us back here? It must o' been risky for ye." He looked around furtively. "An' should ye be seen wi' us in broad daylight?"

Choosing to ignore the questions for the moment, Smecker folded his hands on the cheap Formica table. "You've both put on a little weight; you don't look as scrawny. Life good back in dear old Eire?"

Murphy snorted as he flipped open the menu. He was starved. "Ye live a block over from Ma an' we'll see what ye look like. She could fatten a year-old skeleton." He poked Connor in the gut. "We're lucky Connor here's been wankin' so much, otherwise he'd have no way ta burn off all those calories she's been stuffin' down our throats."

Punching his twin in the thigh just hard enough to make him yelp and drop the menu, Connor snarled, "Fuck ye, Murph. At least I've been laid."

Shoves and jabbing punches ensued as the brothers cursed each other in languages Smecker didn't understand. He waited until Murphy had been pushed off the bench seat altogether to say, "We've brought you back because we need the Saints. Here." When Murphy stared up at him from the floor and Connor paused with the cigarette halfway to his lips, Smecker added, "Boston PD is in on it. I had to call in a mountain of favors with TSA and State just to get you here, but it's done now. Every guy on the force is chomping at the bit to help in any way they can. You'll have free rein to get this sick fuck."

Sliding back into the booth, scuffle forgotten, Murphy slung his arm along the back of the seat behind his brother. "No offense, but we ain't exactly been watchin' the news since we got back. What sick fuck are ye talkin' about?"

The chatter of the customers at the bar faded into the background as the brothers read through the top story of the newspaper Smecker pushed in front of them. 'Boston Butcher Strikes at Heart of City,' the headline proclaimed in bolded oversize print. 'Fourth Girl's Body Found in Dumpster- Police Stymied.'

Murphy chewed at his thumb and waited for his brother to finish reading the article. "That's one sick bastard like ye said, but if ye don't know who he is, we can't kill him, can we? We're good, but we can't take down a mark when we don't know who or where."

It took Smecker only a moment to slide a thick manila folder across the table. "There's more. This wasn't the fourth body, it was the eighth. This fuck's alternating killing girls and boys, all between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five. No physical profiling of the vics- they're blonds, brunettes, white, black, Asian, Hispanic. Snatched out of thin air, raped, stabbed in the chest and dumped with a slab of meat duct taped to their faces. You can see why the media is going nuts. This motherfucker's not only sick, but highly intelligent. No viable forensic material at any of the crime scenes. No prints or semen, a few generic synthetic hair strands, and the only blood samples were non-human."

Connor flipped through the contents of the folder slowly. "We're not miracle workers. I'd like ta tell ye we can kill this bastard for ye, but we need to know either who or where we need ta be lookin'." He flinched as he got to the crime scene pictures. "Sweet Jesus. Who would do that?"

Silently, Murphy watched as his brother sifted through the photos. His appetite vanished. "ID him an' we'll get him," he promised, voice thick with emotion.

For the first time, Smecker looked around apprehensively. Finally, he waved the boys in closer. "We had a suspect but only the flimsiest of circumstantial evidence. I was brought in as a courtesy because he's Chinese triad- real nasty little bastard, but too smart to have ever been charged under the RICO laws- and because all the murders have been here in Boston, FBI has no real jurisdiction." He fiddled with his cigarette case a moment before shoving it away. "The PD brought him in, guy called Xiang Li Kai, but a vic was found fresh while he was in custody. He was released when the time of death came back as during his detention. They're back at square one."

Sucking deeply on the cigarette, Connor eyed the FBI agent. "What haven't ye said yet?"

"I think Xiang was part of it. Now I'm no serial killer expert, but I read crime scenes as well as anyone. There's multiple assailants. I feel it in my gut. Whoever his buddy is, he did another vic on purpose while we had Xiang in custody to clear him."

"What makes ye think that?" Murphy snagged the cigarette case and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

Smecker nodded. "Go ahead." His fingers tapped out a tattoo on the battered tabletop. "That scene feels different. Again, no physical evidence, but it feels rushed. All the others were neat as a pin -meaning the vics were done elsewhere and dumped- but this one was start to finish in the same alley. The body had minimal damage to the genital area. I went to the scene when it was hot- trust me on this, that one was almost compulsory. All the same markers, but none of the feel." Smecker clenched his hands and sighed heavily.

"What about Da?" Murphy asked, looking from Smecker to his brother and back again. "Da's the smartest man I know. Why don't ye bring him in for this?"

A glance at his cell phone let Smecker know the time. He had to be back at work soon. "Dolly's driving out to New York to get him himself. Your father sent me a letter about a year ago saying he was in some little vacation town called Lake George."

The brothers nodded. "Yeah, Da would call Ma now an' then. We knew he was layin' low in upstate New York. He was talkin' about tryin' ta get home ta Ireland once the travel restrictions relaxed from 9/11, either that or make his way up ta Canada and then fly from there."

Smecker laughed dully. "Unless he planned on leaving in a fucking canoe, he'd have been snagged in or out of this country. His IRA affiliation means he's flagged on every customs board from here to fucking Budapest. INTERPOL would snap him up in a heartbeat. He knew damn well he wasn't going back to fucking Ireland."

Murphy grinned. "Da has his ways, Smecker." He folded his hands in prayer. "Ye got ta have faith."

"Ye know, faith is just yer feelings, an' God gives ye those." The FBI agent and Connor locked eyes, silently sharing a smile at the memories of his drunken confession. Connor had told him before the Yakavetta trial the circumstances that led both him and Rocco to hear his conversation with the priest.

Fishing out his wallet, Smecker slapped a twenty on the table and rose. "Greenly's got you boys a place here in South Boston. His brother-in-law, or some shit like that, was looking to sub-let for the year to someone that could be trusted while he's out of the country. The cops in their precinct have combined to foot the bill. You know, off the books, so just don't fuckin' shoot up the place or bleed everywhere and we'll be fine. Your father should be coming in the day after tomorrow." He tossed Murphy a scrap of paper secured to money and a set of keys with a rubberband. "There's your keys, address and phone number. And a hundred bucks. Your father's got the rest of your money from the Russian job, plus whatever the hell else he's squirreled away on his own."

Connor eyed the keys in his brother's hand. It was certainly a step up from their last place in Boston if it had locks on the door. "Thanks, Smecker. I know yer arse is on the line here, so we'll be careful. When Da gets here, we'll do our best ta get this fucker before anyone else dies." He pushed the file back across the table. "Don't forget this."

Smecker dragged a hand over his face and the dark circles beneath his eyes made him look as exhausted as he sounded. "That's a copy for you. It's everything they've got on the crimes and Xiang. If you need anything, just use the speed dial on the apartment's phone. It's all programmed." He strode off without saying goodbye.

Connor picked up the menu Murphy had dropped earlier. "All right, Watson, if we're goin' ta be detectin', we need some brain food. How about a Guinness an' a burger?"

Nodding, Murphy peeled off one of the twenties Smecker had left and headed to the front. "Then we get ta work."

* * *

"Turn right there at the liquor store," Murphy mumbled, his head buried in the street map in his hands. "Looks like an alley matchin' the police report runs behind the buildin'."

After leaving the Lakeview, the MacManuses had made a beeline for the closest crime scene, only five or six blocks from the restaurant. Unfortunately, the actual crime had taken place more than two months ago. Not only was there nothing there for them to discover, but the location gave Murphy chills. The alley dumped out onto a busy road with plenty of foot traffic. To commit such an atrocity so close to the business of everyday life spoke of a deep-seated contempt for both individual life and society as a whole. When he'd said as much to Connor, he'd commented that the bastard was incredibly arrogant. That was good. Arrogance often led to occasional slips. They would be there the next time this guy made a mistake, hammers cocked and bullets chambered.

Double-checking the crime scene photos, Connor nodded. "Yer right. Look, Murph, ye can see the graffiti next ta the dumpster matches up wi' the pictures. This is it- this is where they found the sixth body." He bounded down the dim alley, leaving his brother to follow in his wake.

It took only a moment to stow the map in his back pocket. It was fuckin' freezing. He knew he should have made Connor fork over the money for those gloves at the dollar store by the second scene they'd visited. His damn hands were reddened and numb from the combination of the icy Boston wind and the quickly dropping temperature. Clouds were rolling in, fat and white, to block out the weak sunlight and the dubious sense of warmth it provided.

"Get yer pansy arse movin'!" Connor called back. "If ye want ta whine about bein' cold, do it back here where I don't have ta yell ta be heard."

With a grunt, Murphy stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to ignore the cold air snaking down the back of his jacket. When he finally caught up with Connor, his twin was on his knees and running his hands over the pavement like a bad impression of a television psychic. "Well, Madam Zelda, are ye havin' any flashes o' insight?"

Connor glared up at his brother. Sure, he may have gotten a little carried away with this detective business, but dammit- life was dull without a little melodrama. His voice was huffy with indignation when he shot back, "As a matter o' fact, I have, ye snippy bastard. Look over here."

Murphy followed the pointed finger and nodded. "That's a good piece o' observation, Holmes. Very nice, indeed." Connor had noticed something that only someone who had lived a life of cataloguing every possible entrance and exit to their home would see. The flap of a mostly rusted-out garbage chute, innocent and inconspicuous to most observers, lay disused and forgotten twenty feet away on the wall of the building across the alley. Most every building of this type in Boston had one. Aside from it, the place had no exterior doors or stairs leading onto the alley, and all the windows were the old leaded glass that did not open. It was no surprise that Smecker and the PD had missed the significance of the little three foot square rubber flap. He grinned and helped Connor to his feet. "Madam Zelda is a wise an' skilled woman."

"Is it Sherlock Holmes or Madam Zelda?" Connor returned the grin, his eyes crinkling. "I need ta know if I should be findin' me a pipe or silk scarves."

After a few minutes of furtive glances in every direction, the brothers agreed that it was safe to enter the rundown building with the garbage chute leading into the alley. Systematically moving from room to room and floor to floor, they cautiously explored the decrepit, empty brick building. The first three floors offered no information aside from the detritus of squatters. Sadly, they ran into no one to ask about the presence of an arrogant Chinese man or sounds of a struggle. The fourth floor was different, and both brothers knew it immediately.

The foul smell of human waste and mold was almost overpowering in the enclosed stairwell, but Murphy stood guard on the landing with his pistol drawn while Connor cleared the two rooms. Seconds stretched out interminably until Connor poked his head into the stairwell and nodded.

"Ye need ta see this."

Following his brother into the larger of the two rooms occupying the fourth floor, Murphy caught his breath sharply. The scent of ammonia was so intense that it made his eyes water. The room was, for the most part, empty. A single chair was situated just to the side of the window overlooking the alley below and the empty cardboard cylinder of a roll of duct tape lay forlornly by itself in the center of the room. Aside from that, the room was empty save two steel rings that had been secured to the wall. Short lengths of chain dangled from the rings, pointing down at the floor like the indicators they were of some terrible act.

They had found the real crime scene. Victim number six had met her horrific end here. Connor caught his brother's eye and said solemnly, "We need ta call Smecker. Don't touch anything. Maybe they can still get some evidence."

Instinctively, Murphy knew the police would not. Even if ammonia was not trying to sear through his nostrils, the place felt antiseptic. The killer or killers knew exactly what would and would not matter. Instead, he looked around for and found the garbage chute he knew would be there. "Slid the body right on down there. All he had ta do was pick it up at the bottom an' chuck it in the dumpster."

"Like so much trash." The hamburger Connor had eaten a few hours back at the Lakeview heaved uncomfortably in his gut. Getting a hold of himself, he squared his shoulders. "Let's get out o' here, Murph. We need ta find a pay phone."

As his brother talked to newly-minted Lieutenant Duffy about getting a forensics team out to the brick building, Murphy leaned back against the heated glass of a bakery window and thumbed through the file Connor had handed him. He didn't want to see the grisly photos or read the even more gruesome reports. Instead, he landed on two cramped, single-spaced pages simply entitled 'Thoughts and Notes'.

Smecker had apparently combined information from his FBI dossier on Xiang Li Kai with his gut reactions and general truths about the behavior patterns of serial killers. It was laid out in clear language and neatly divided into facts and assumptions. Murphy was instantly engrossed.

By the time Connor hung up with Duffy, Murphy had the street map out and was tracing his finger along it with a frown of concentration. Without looking up, he informed his brother, "We've got one more stop, Conn."

"Where? I thought only the three scenes were in walkin' distance. An' I already told ye, we don't have the money ta be throwin' around on a cab. The other spots are goin' ta have ta wait until Da gets here wi' the cash from the Russian job."

Reaching out, Murphy snatched his brother's coat and dragged him closer. "Axis Nightclub. It's only a few blocks away from where we were livin' last time, over by McGinty's." The look in his eyes was inscrutable, even to his brother. "Smecker's notes say that not only does Xiang frequent the place, but it's also a hotbed o' triad activity for the younger set."

Good enough for me, Connor thought with a shrug. He was already numb from the cold. What was another half hour or so? "Alright, Watson, lead the way."

* * *

Axis, like most fashionable city nightclubs, was housed in a converted warehouse in an industrial section that had slowly degraded down to empty shells of failed factories. Ironically, Axis turned out to be a scant block from McGinty's in their old stomping grounds. With the Italian mafia's and the Russian syndicate's stranglehold on the area broken when they cleaned house four years ago, legitimate businesses had moved in to fill the void.

"Ah, the sweet dance o' capitalism," Connor sighed as they passed the shabby bar they loved so much and caught sight of the fancy canopy and neon sign over the entrance to the new club. "If there's one thing tha' makes money for clubs, it's giant abandoned industrial places that came dirt cheap. Guess we increased property values for everyone around here."

Murphy took a nip at his ragged thumbnail. "Too bad we didn't think ta buy a few o' these places ourselves. We'd be fuckin' loaded now."

Giving his twin a brotherly bump with his shoulder, Connor nodded back at the dilapidated face of McGinty's with the peeling harp decal on the window. "At least we made sure Doc got the deed ta that place though, right? We did good, Murph. Yer jes' bein' greedy now." He smirked. "It would be nice, though, wouldn't it?"

Hey, doin' God's work should have a few perks, shouldn't it? Murphy thought. He was getting awful sick of living from hand to mouth. Of course, Da bringing the Russians' dirty money would surely help their quality of life. "Nah. I bet they turned our ol' buildin' into a strip club. Ye wouldn't want ta own a place called some shite thing like 'Boom Boom Room', would ye? How would ye hold yer head up?"

"Fuck," Connor said on a snort of laughter. "It's probably some cheap porno house." He started laughing so hard that Murphy had to prevent him from stumbling into two dockworkers coming down the sidewalk. "I knew there was a good reason I never wanted ta be havin' me bare feet on that floor!" he chortled. "Even then it was always sticky."

Yech. Knowing how many times he'd padded barefoot around that place was not something Murphy wanted to be considering. Leaving Connor slumped against the wall roaring with laughter, he tried both doors to the club. "Locked!" he shouted back. "I'm goin' around ta check the alley an' delivery entrances."

Connor waved feebly and wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. For some reason, the thought of their old place as a porn house was hilarious. They lived there for three years and the ironic part was there hadn't been a private corner to wank in. They had to sleep, eat and shite in full view of one another. Connor didn't mind the lack of privacy, but now and then it would have been nice to relieve some pressure without openly telling his brother to go for a long walk. "Yeah, other doors."

When Murphy came back, his dipshit brother had finally gotten a hold of himself and was puffing on two cigarettes. Silently, he took the one offered. "All locked up. We're goin' ta have ta come back. Opens at eight."

Taking a long drag, Connor studied the convenience store across the street. "No, we'll come back tomorrow night. That way we can get a decent plan thought up."

"An' places like this are usually packed on Saturday nights, so we'll have plenty o' other people around for cover." Murphy nodded his head back towards McGinty's. "Let's stop in for a pint wi' Doc before we go find our new place."

Now there was a proposition they could agree on. Nothing like a good pint of Guinness to knock the chill from your bones.

* * *

Wholly unimpressed with his brother's speed in unlocking the door, Connor glanced around the hallway, trying to distract himself. "Could ye move wi' a little more rapidity than the average snail, Murph? I've got ta piss."

Shooting Connor a nasty look, Murphy continued to disentangle the key from the rubber band holding it to the money Smecker had given them. "Ye an' yer peanut sized bladder can wait another second, ye whiny bitch. I'm doin' me best."

Connor danced a little in place and tried to distract himself. "Nice place here. Look, Murph, that corner flat there has flower pots wi' actual flowers in 'em in the window. An' all the doors have brass numbers." He turned a tight circle. "There's freakin' paintings in the hallway."

Having finally freed the key from the persistent rubber band and fitted it in the lock, Murphy stood silently in the doorway until his twin pushed past him with a snarl. Then he too stopped. They looked around in wonder. Murphy rubbed the back of his head slowly as a delighted grin swept over his face. "Were I a woman, Conn, I'd give the entire District Six precinct blowjobs for this."

Jolted out of his amazement, Connor snorted. "I always knew ye were a little fey, Murph. I'll tell Smecker yer lookin' for a boyfriend when I see him next."

That merited a good punch to the stomach in the MacManus code of conduct, but Murphy was far too pleased at the moment to retaliate. He patted his brother's shoulder as he moved past to wander through the living room. "Ye do that," he said absently.

The apartment the cops had set up for them was hands down the nicest place they'd ever lived. Greenly's brother-in-law had decorated the place in an easy, comfortable style that screamed bachelor with the matching leather sofa and loveseat and neutral colors on the walls. Connor gravitated immediately to the huge television hung on the wall and inspected both sides closely, his need to use the bathroom entirely forgotten. "This baby must o' cost him a fortune. I'd never leave it behind if I had ta be away for a full year. Can ye picture Charlie Bronson in Death Wish on this thing?" Grinning like a loon, he stroked the TV screen with the intimacy of a lover. "I may have ta join ye in the suckin' cock department, Murph."

"Mmm. Right." Murphy had already moved on to the kitchen, rifling through drawers and cabinets in amazement. "This place is fully kitted out, Connor." He turned to the refrigerator in a daze. "All we've got ta do is buy food."

His answer was dizzy laughter as Connor pried himself away from the television and flitted to and fro, throwing doors open with bangs to duck inside briefly. Each door he emerged from left a bigger grin on his face. "Ye could play a cricket match in that bathroom, it's so big! An' two massive bedrooms, Murph! An' they each got beds big enough ta roll over in without fallin' off the other side. The one room's got a king size bed an' its own bathroom." Connor waved his hands about expansively. "It's got a tub big enough for an orgy."

Murphy ran his hands over the neat stacks of dishes in the cabinets next to the sink. "This place is fuckin' amazin'," he sighed happily. With a manic energy, he bounded out to join his brother in the hallway to the bedrooms, throwing himself into Connor's arms to share an excited jig.

Twenty minutes later, the two were still roaming around the big apartment with identical looks of disbelief on their faces. They'd be seein' Da again after almost four years. They had a proper home with everything from a squashy reclining chair to matching towels. Life was, despite the killer or killers they'd been brought back to get, going to be spectacular. Smecker had said they could have this place for a year while Greenly's brother-in-law was overseas for work. The Lord must surely be smiling down on them.

Connor flopped down on the big leather sofa and contentedly snuggled his head into the perfectly yielding cushions. "I get the room wi' the big bed until Da gets here." He grinned as Murphy made to throw the boot he was unlacing at him. "Nuh uh, don't mess up this shiny new sofa wi' yer nasty boot, Murph." A spectacularly wicked thought occurred to him. "I'll make ye a deal. I'll give up me claim ta the master bedroom only if ye bring Katie home ta break in that big old bed."

The boot that sailed across the room clipped him neatly on the side of the head before dropping to the floor. It never touched the sofa. Damn Murphy. He'd always had excellent aim.

* * *

Connor's love affair with the flat-screen TV owes much to my husband's reaction when he got his. Man's love of electronics is too funny to not poke at now and then.

As always, I'd love to hear any and everything you have to say, so drop me a review.

Thanks! -MBA


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you to **Belhavenontap, dragonzfire718, A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, ivyshortcake, archerlove, Sith Happens, Veritas rose, Angel Black1, WWESupernatural102292, **and** alandava**. I love all of your reviews and am so glad you are enjoying the story so far. I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out- my grandmother came down from Connecticut to see the Cherry Blossom Festival in D.C., so I was occupied most of last week.

Love,

MBA

* * *

Chapter Four

Murphy was dozing lightly in the oversized recliner as Connor watched Platoon rapturously on the big TV. Even with all the background noise of the movie, the click of the lock and the shuffle of feet in the hallway had him sitting up at attention.

When the door swung inward, his first reaction was to dive for the holster by the coffee table. Murphy's second reaction was to lunge to his feet and shout, "Da! Yer early!" with glee.

A minute smile tugged at Da's mouth as he watched his grown sons scramble over and around furniture to get to him as if they were toddlers again. When Connor crushed him in a delighted hug and Murphy wrapped his arms around them both with a whoop, Jack MacManus allowed himself a brief laugh. It was rusty even to his own ears, but damn- it was good to see his boys again. God-given missions were noble, but he would always regret the gaping holes in his knowledge of his family's lives and his sons' upbringing. Someday, Annabelle would box his ears with an empty bottle or an ashtray for everything he'd missed and he'd let her, because he deserved it.

After a rapid-fire burst of questions and a quick meal of plain pasta, Da settled back in the recliner Murphy insisted he take and folded his hands on his belly. "Detective Dolly may be Greek, but he must have a bit o' Italy in his blood- he drives like the very Devil is on his heels. Said he had ta get back for his son's basketball game or his wife would kill him." He let out an enormous yawn. "Lord, but I'm tired. The good detective told me many things on the drive here, mostly about these murders an' how we've been given a rent-free home for as long as we need. What he didn't tell me was why you boys needed me."

Connor rolled his eyes. "Stop fishin' for compliments, Da, ye know good an' damn well yer better at this sort o' thing than we are. We're needin' yer brain this time around, not yer gun hand." His eyes flickered to the remote on the table between them- if he turned the television on now, he could just catch the end of the movie. Maybe he could convince Da and Murphy to let him buy a few DVDs for the player tucked discreetly in the cabinet below the TV. Die Hard, Apocalypse Now, the whole Death Wish series, maybe even that Band of Brothers set he'd heard so much about-

"Are ye fuckin' deaf?" Murphy threw his lighter at his brother's head. "Wake up, ye idiot. Da asked ye a question." Christ, Connor's mind wandered away more often than a herd of sheep left to their own devices. "He wants ta know why we're wastin' a perfectly good day tomorrow when we could be trackin' down leads. I told him it was yer idea."

That soulless coward- so he was going to pin this on Connor, was he? We'll just see how ye like this, Murphy, ye worm, Connor thought. "Da, would ye want us ta be leavin' a single woman mindin' six kids from bad homes ta do for herself? The lass is knee-deep in work an' sinkin' fast, an' we added ta her worries. Murph an' I are goin' ta pay her back by givin' her a hand. Jes' a spot o' honest work."

Da leaned over and lightly cuffed Murphy on the back of the head. "Ye could have said that easy enough. There's no shame in helpin' those who need it, Murphy." One bushy eyebrow quirked. "Or dinna ye want ta help the lady in question?"

"Aye." Murphy heaved a deep sigh. How had he become the bad guy? And here he'd thought he'd have a bit of fun at Connor's expense. "O' course I want ta help her. I jes' wish she'd be a little more grateful." Sure, Katie was grateful to Connor- she had smiles and laughs for him, but Murphy got those disapproving little frowns and sharp words. She could at least try to be nice to him, dammit. She was pretty- hell, if she gave him one good smile he'd probably melt at her feet, but no, no smiles for Murphy.

Connor dissolved into laughter. It took him several tries to gasp out, "Oh, I'm sure ye want her ta be real appreciative, Murph. Ye want her ta bat those big blue eyes o' hers an' maybe take ye aside for a proper thankin'." Still laughing, he took the kick Murphy aimed at him. Seeing the dull red creep up his brother's neck as their father looked on with amusement was well worth one little bruise.

* * *

Saturday dawned grey and cold with fat snowflakes falling thicker all the time, a not-uncommon occurrence for a Massachusetts' December. When Katie shuffled out onto the porch in her favorite red robe and matching slippers to fetch the Boston Herald, she noted with surprise that there was already several inches of snow on the ground. By the look of the sky, much more was on the way, so she and the kids would spend a cozy morning inside making pancakes and arguing about who had what chores to do. When the front doorbell rang, it took them all by surprise.

Matthew and Russell, her eight year old twins, chorused, "We'll get it!" as they raced out of the kitchen. Several minutes passed before one of them bellowed, "Katie? Two guys are here to see you!"

Looking at the clock, Katie bit back a curse. It was nine in the morning, her head ached and she hadn't even had a chance to shower yet. When the MacManuses said they'd stop by after Mass, she didn't think they'd meant this early. Wasn't Mass at like ten a.m. or something? She was still wearing her nightgown and robe, for God's sake. There was no hope for it. She didn't have time to dash upstairs and throw on clothes. "Coming!"

The first thing Connor and Murphy saw when the door was thrown open was two identical freckled faces with suspicious green eyes taking their measure. "Yeah?" said one with a good deal of bravado. "What d'ya want?"

"Mornin'." Murphy smiled and dropped to his haunches in front of the boys, snow drifting down from his hair at the movement. "We're here ta see Katie, and ye must be the twins she was talkin' about. Strappin' lads, aren't they, Conn?"

The urge to grin at the boys was nearly overpowering. They were standing shoulder to shoulder in the doorway in the very same pose he and his brother had adopted since they could walk. Connor nodded solemnly and stuck out his hand. "Oh, aye, right little men o' the house. Me name's Connor an' this is me brother Murphy. Ye got ta be making the acquaintance o' people before allowin' them near yer womenfolk."

Matt took the blond guy's hand. He liked how they assumed he and Russ were the men of the house. "You sound like the guys from the Guinness commercials."

Russ elbowed his brother, jostling him over to grip hands with Connor next. "They're not English, dummy, they're Scottish. Geez."

A long beat passed as Murphy and Connor locked gazes and struggled not to laugh. "Aye, the timorous beastie has a point."

Murphy groaned. "Lord, spare me from such a sad sense o' humor. Rabbie Burns? What, is he the only Scotsman ye can think o', ye dunce?" Shaking his head, he turned and shook each boy's hand. "Can we be speakin' wi' Katie, please?"

Russ and Matt shared a smile before one shouted, "Katie? Two guys are here to see you!"

Connor grinned as Katie came down the hall, wrapped to the chin in an eye-searing bright red housecoat and ridiculous red bunny slippers with her hair streaming around her in a brown curtain that had clearly not seen a brush yet this morning. Lord, if he knew the woman better, he'd fall down laughing, but he figured she'd just slam the door in their faces if he did. "Aren't we a cheery sight this fine snowy mornin'?" Laughter bubbled just beneath the surface.

"Go finish your orange juice and wash your glasses," Katie admonished with a hand on each boy's shoulder. At the matching groans, she ruffled two heads of sandy blond hair. "Go on. Give me any trouble and you'll be helping Jeremy do laundry today." Those were apparently the magic words, for the boys scampered off without a backwards glance. She secured a hand around the robe at her neck and gave them an embarrassed smile. "I didn't think you'd be by quite so early."

Murphy was just itching to take a swipe at the monstrosities she had on her feet and had to chew on his thumb to not say anything. When she looked at him expectantly, he muttered around his thumbnail, "We went ta the early service."

Katie had the strongest urge to slap his hand away from his mouth like he was one of her kids. "I can't understand you with your hand halfway down your throat." She was tired, and perhaps her words were a bit sharper than she'd intended, but it was a horrible habit for a grown man to have. Still, she probably owed him an apology. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap your head off."

"It didn't stop ye from doin' so." Murphy couldn't help the surly words that slipped out unbidden. If she'd only keep her tongue behind her teeth, he might take Connor's advice and see if she was up for a little fun, but no- she wanted to lecture him like he was naughty child. What a waste of a good-looking woman.

Biting his lips, Connor shifted his gaze from Katie to Murphy, who looked like he wanted to pick up the woman and chuck her headfirst out into the snow. Finally, he managed to wave at her outfit. "Would ye like us ta come back later?" It was hard, but he swallowed the laugh trying to bubble up into his throat. She was nice and quite pretty in a cute, youthful sort of way, which made Murphy's very juvenile reaction to her all the more hilarious. He could practically see the sparks they struck off one another, but if the idiot wanted to take his sweet time getting around to the courting, then Connor would buy a bowl and some popcorn to enjoy with the show. And maybe now and then he'd give one or the other a small push. Starting this morning, he thought with relish. Definitely a tiny bit of meddling was required this morning.

She swept the door wide and gathered her wits, willing her headache to subside. They were here and offering to work, something she was incredibly appreciative of- Murphy's ability to annoy her notwithstanding. Best to just get over her embarrassment at being caught looking like this. "Brush that snow off and come on in out of the cold. I don't think I can afford to heat the neighborhood much longer." As they slapped a good amount of snow off their black pea coats and shook yet more out of their hair, Katie peered past them to the street. No car. "You walked?" she asked in disbelief. "In this weather?"

"Our magic carpet is out o' order," Murphy replied as he stomped his boots to knock off the slush. "Besides, it was a nice peaceful walk from St. Mark's."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "St. Mark's is two or three miles from here." Unbelievable. "And no hats or gloves on either of you. You'll be lucky if you don't catch your death."

"Yes, Ma," they sang, identical looks of exasperation on their faces.

Men, Katie thought. They were all idiots, and they all had delusions of invincibility. Pointing a finger down the hall as she closed the door behind them, she put on her best motherly tone. "In the kitchen and I'll pour you some hot coffee. You can warm up while I go throw some clothes on and get everything together."

Connor lost his battle with laughter at that point. "An' deprive us o' that bit o' high fashion frippery?" His blue eyes were dancing.

She turned and drilled a finger in his chest. "Listen up, MacManus, you may be helping me out today, and you may be slightly amusing, but you sure as hell don't get to mock my clothes when you show up at nine o'clock in the morning -unannounced- on the weekend." Katie deflated a bit when he apologized immediately.

"I didn't mean ta insult ye, Katie." The lopsided smile he offered her was tentative. "It's jes' that I feel like we've known ye forever an' I forget we're practically strangers ta ye. Me mouth starts firin' like we've been friendly for years."

How do you stay mad after an apology like that? The truth was that she felt the same. After she'd decided they posed no threat to her or the kids the other night, she'd felt comfortable with these men. And Ned's friend Artie thought the MacManus boys hung the moon. Katie followed her instincts now and wrapped her arms around Connor in a brief hug. "It's all right; I'm just not really awake yet. After the kids finish eating I usually sit down with a pot of coffee and the paper and take an hour to myself." She gave Murphy a pat on the arm. "Come on. You both feel like blocks of ice."

As Murphy swung through the kitchen door, three girls at the table looked up. Dhurata's black eyes sailed right past him to land on Connor, who was smirking hard enough to get a cramp. The girl turned pink and let out a strangled shriek before scrambling to her feet and zipping past the three adults.

A blonde, the older of the two girls still sitting, eyed the newcomers with interest. "I haven't seen Dhurata move that fast since Katie found her frenching Marcus Johnson on the front porch after curfew. Who are these two cuties?"

God save her from teenage girls. Not for the first time, Katie wondered if she was way in over her head with this brood. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "Molly, Lucy, these are the MacManus brothers. Murphy's the dark one and Connor's the blond. They're doing us a favor today by helping out with the chores I can't get you all to lift a finger on."

Lucy raised her hands. "Hold on there, O Disapproving One. I'm pregnant. I can't be lifting stupid furniture or changing tires."

Shaking a head of riotous strawberry blonde curls, the younger girl threw a crust of toast at Lucy. "I'm Molly. Nice to meet you guys. Don't pay attention to Luce; she's milking this baby thing dry."

"I am not!"

"You are so!"

Katie scrubbed her hands over her face. "Enough, you two! Go find something to do. Read a book. Watch television. Better yet, clean your room before it starts spontaneously generating small rodents." When they cleared out, she dropped into a chair with a sigh. A moment later, a steaming mug was pushed into her hands.

"Ye looked like ye needed it," Murphy said with a self-conscious frown.

She wrapped her fingers around the coffee and gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks. I love them all, but man, they wear you out." A deep pull from the mug had her feeling a little better and when she tried to stand, Murphy pressed her back down gently.

His fingers slipped on the hair trailing over her shoulder and lingered for a split second longer than necessary. He'd forgotten how silky a woman's hair could be when it wasn't gunked up with sprays and such. Jesus, her hair was long. He wanted to run his hand the length of that shining mass just once. Murphy blinked slowly. What the hell was wrong with him? "We can get our own. Ye jes' stay there an' catch yer thoughts."

Quietly filling two mugs at the counter, Connor watched the interaction with a small smile. There was the Murphy he knew and women loved. He slid his brother a cup and went to stare out the back door. If he was going to meddle here, he had to give them some time alone. "I'm jes' goin' ta nip out back for a smoke." He waved Murphy away. "Keep the lady company."

She looked tired, Murphy thought as he studied her covertly. The freckles stood out on her pale skin like beacons and she had deep purplish circles beneath her eyes. "Did ye not sleep well, then?"

The question made her jolt, sloshing coffee out onto her hand. "Do I look that hideous?" Katie glanced down at her attire before moping up the spill with a handful of napkins. "Nevermind. Don't answer that."

A surge of sympathy made Murphy reach out and clasp her hand without thought. "Ye look fine, Katie. Connor was jes' playin' earlier." When she raised startled blue eyes to his, he quickly withdrew his hand. "Ye jes' look like ye could use a few more hours abed."

Katie laughed. "I haven't had more than three or four hours a night in weeks. I haven't survived on that little sleep in years. It was a hell of a lot easier when I was twenty."

He sat silently as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and gave her robe an absent smoothing. "Why aren't ye sleepin'?" he asked finally.

"Insomnia. Dhurata missing curfew and her family problems. The twins had the flu. Worrying about accommodating a pregnant sixteen year old and convincing her that adoption is a better solution than abortion." She heaved a sigh. "A billion things to worry about means that there's usually a good reason to be staring at my ceiling at two in the morning. I've started cleaning lately so I'm at least being productive."

Christ. Murphy was suddenly glad he was only responsible for himself and his brother- Da had always been able to take care of himself. The worst thing he had to worry about until they got a lead on Smecker's case was whose turn it was to go out to buy cigarettes and beer for the night. "Ma always used ta say that a hot bath an' a few swigs o' whisky were the best cures for sleeplessness. Ye ought ta try it."

She snorted and took a long sip of coffee. "Drink myself into a stupor, maybe. I've tried hot baths, warm milk, boring books, everything." Katie shrugged and rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, muffling her words. "Eventually I'll get so worn-out that I'll pass out from sheer exhaustion. Until then, it's gallons of tea and coffee and cold showers in the morning for me."

"That's not healthy." Murphy cocked his head. "Ye look like a smart woman, Katie, but that's the dumbest fu-freakin' plan I've ever heard."

"I know. Trust me, I know, but there's really no alternative at this point." Reaching out, she laid her hand on his arm. "Thanks for listening."

Connor watched through the little window in the door as his brother covered her hand on his arm with his fingers. "Atta boy, Murph."

* * *

The snow continued to fall steadily as Katie, Murphy and Connor unloaded the new furniture from the truck Mr. Ott across the street had loaned her.

Brushing snow out of her eyes, Katie heaved a sigh and ran her hands over the peeling green paint of one nightstand. "I wanted to clean and strip these, but there's no way we can do it in this weather." She checked her watch. "It's almost lunch time anyway. If you two can help me get all of this down into the basement, I'll make you some sandwiches before you go."

Murphy hefted one of the small nightstands, shifting the weight until he got it balanced. "Ye don't need ta feed us. We'll stop for somethin' on the way home."

Pushing pieces of disassembled bed frames down towards the tailgate of the truck, Connor nodded in agreement. "Murphy's right. We're here ta help ye. Don't ye have anything else that needs doin'?"

She started to protest, but thought better of it. Even though she barely knew them, Katie intuitively understood that they'd argue and fuss unless they thought they'd done their share. "Except for the floodlight on the front porch, there's really nothing else that I can't do myself or have the kids help with, but if you insist, there's a few things inside I was going to do today."

"Like what?" Murphy followed her to the exterior cellar doors and cautiously made his way down the steps.

The change from the grey day to the dim cellar was marked, and Katie was forced to prop the footboard she carried against the wall to go hunt around for the string to the overhead light bulb. After bumping into Murphy for the second time, she jumped when his warm fingers closed over the nape of her neck.

Murphy juggled the small bureau and reached out when she walked into him for the second time. "Are we playin' blind tag or are we lookin' for somethin'?" The jolt of surprise he got out of her when his hand settled on her neck was gratifying, and his voice dropped as warmth spread through his gut. Maybe it was the darkness around him that emboldened him, but Murphy thought it was probably their conversation at the table earlier. She'd softened towards him, even if only a little. He drew his fingers across the soft skin below her ponytail. "Because I'm not entirely averse ta playin' a game wi' ye, Katie."

Skittering away from him, Katie tried to collect herself. "Light bulb," she muttered and, by a stroke of luck, the string she was looking for brushed against her face. The feather light touch felt too much like the caress of Murphy's fingers on her neck and she shuddered as she switched the light on. He was standing where she'd left him, a considering look in his eyes. "What?" she demanded, struggling not to blush. He wasn't a big man, but his shoulders were surprisingly broad. He took up entirely too much space in the cluttered cellar. Even with a few feet between them, it felt like he was too close.

"Nothin'." His voice was mild. "Jes' wonderin' what I did ta set ye so on edge." Looking around, he set the night stand in a clear space and took a step closer to her.

Katie sucked in a breath as he advanced on her slowly, but she stood her ground. When his hands came up and hesitated over her shoulders, she tipped her head back to look at him. "What are you doing?"

She hadn't run from him or started in on him verbally, which was an excellent sign as far as Murphy was concerned. When he cupped her shoulders gently, she tilted her face back, waiting. Making his decision, Murphy bent his head and-

"Are ye two goin' ta help me wi' these headboards or am I goin' ta have ta stand out here until I'm covered in enough snow for the kids ta stick a carrot on me nose and call me Frosty?"

Katie jumped back as Connor's question floated down the stairs, the spell broken. Good Lord, had she almost let him just kiss her? What was she, sixteen again? She shook her head and scrambled for the footboard she'd propped against the wall. "Coming!" she shouted.

Murphy trudged up the stairs behind her, silently promising himself that he'd piss in Connor's coffee the next morning. The bastard's timing was atrocious.

* * *

Leaving Connor in the kitchen with Katie to finish their tea and fix the wobbly chairs, Murphy lugged the tool kit Katie had given him to the access panel by the front door. It only took him a few minutes of poking around in the wall to know that the wiring was so bad that it would have to be entirely ripped out and replaced. Well, that was a piece of good news and bad. Good because he'd need several days to do the job properly, meaning more chances to get Katie into a situation like the basement, and bad because the next time someone turned on that light might be the last for this house. "Katie!" he bellowed.

She poked her head out of the kitchen door. "Do you need a hand or something?"

Waving her over, he stepped down off the chair he'd been using to peer into the hole in the wall. "Come here. Ye'll be wantin' ta see this before I blister yer ears."

Curious now, Katie stepped up onto the chair he'd vacated and immediately had to go to tiptoe just to see into the access panel. "Alright, hand me the flashlight and tell me what I'm supposed to be looking at."

Murphy passed her the light and resisted the urge to growl. Oh, she could be all sorts of nonchalant about getting around to this and here she was, a stroke of bad luck away from burning the place to the ground. "How about the very large scorch mark on the wall, for starters?" If he and Connor hadn't come back to help her out- no. Murphy didn't even want to consider that train of thought.

She couldn't see shit because even with the chair, she was too short. Somehow, she didn't think she wanted to undergo the ribbing if she hopped down to grab a phone book. A few more inches and she would be fine, but no, she just had to be the runt of the Fennessy family. Being five foot two just plain sucked sometimes.

"Did ye hear me, Katie? That mark is burnt wood. Every time ye turn this thing on, the wirin' sparks and burns the framin' an' joists a little more. One o' these times, it's goin' ta catch."

Katie looked back down at him. "Can it be fixed? I mean, I could just tell the kids not to use it until it's fixed, right?"

Rubbing a finger over his lower lip in exasperation, Murphy climbed up onto the chair behind her and stuck his arm over her shoulder, pointing at a spot inside the hole. "Sweet Jesus, Katie, look at that mess! What do ye think?"

Oh God. He was pressed to her back, or at least his chest was pressed to her back, and man, was it playing havoc with her senses. Not dating meant she didn't have to deal with all the crap that came of relationships, and a good vibrator took care of the rest, or at least that's what Katie thought. It'd been a long time since she'd felt that liquid pull low in her belly with a real live man right there to tempt her. And oh, was it ever tempting, but she steeled herself against the shot of lust and rose higher on her toes, struggling to see whatever it was he was pointing at. "Um, it's bad?" Can't go wrong with vague, right?

Murphy was about to snap at her when he noticed that her nose was level with the bottom edge of the access hole and realization dawned. She couldn't see a damn thing. He didn't think, just pushed his thigh between her legs and hefted her up with hands around her waist.

Actually squeaking in surprise, Katie froze when Murphy picked her up, and then her breath lodged in her throat. He had her butt braced against his lower belly- she could feel the top of his belt digging into her flesh.

"Should o' said somethin' if ye couldn't see, ye idiot woman," he chided.

She didn't know how she would have reacted –slapped him, turned in his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, demanded he let her down, run away blushing- but the sight of a large burn mark in the wall caught her attention. "Holy shit!"

Nodding, Murphy readjusted his grip and finally just wrapped his arms around her waist, using his hips and thigh to support most of her weight. "Now ye get it, do ye? Now follow the green and blue wires up ta the top o' the wall."

Katie found the wires and adjusted the flashlight to see where they disappeared at the top of the wall, presumably to go outside. "Okay, got them. What am I looking for?"

"They're stripped, completely stripped. Ye've got bare copper wire inside a wood frame house and bad wirin' at the switch. In short, Katie, yer brewin' the perfect storm o' electrical fires."

She looked over her shoulder at his face. He didn't seem to be having any trouble holding her up. In fact, he looked like he could stand there all day. She tried not to think about where their bodies pressed together. She could think about it later in bed, when she was alone. "But the electrician that came out said it wasn't a big deal."

When he was done rewiring this thing, Murphy was going to have to give careful consideration to getting all the kids out of the house for an hour or two. At the moment, all he wanted was to turn her in his arms and have her wrap those legs around his waist. He'd be the first MacManus to fuck standing up on a chair. Well, at least he thought he would. You never knew in his family. Uncle Seamus was rumored to have been a bit eccentric in his day. Murphy shook his head to clear his thoughts and refocused. "Then he was a first rate moron. This place is a firetrap."

A door overhead slammed and Katie wriggled in his arms. "Put me down," she said quickly, looking up the staircase before turning her eyes back to Murphy, who made no move to put her down.

He grinned at her. "Say 'please'."

Lucy and Dhurata's voices grew louder. Katie pushed at his shoulders. "Please."

Murphy smiled smugly and tightened his grip. "No."

In another second, the girls would turn the corner upstairs and be able to see them like this, and that was the last thing she needed. Oh, he picked a fine time to be obstinate. She resorted to bribery. "Do you like dessert? I make a wonderful pie. Cookies, too. Tarts, cheesecake, you name it. Just put me down!" She hissed the last part and, just as the girls hit the top of the stairs, Murphy swung her neatly over and deposited her on the floor.

He'd eat his boots if she wasn't attracted to him, too, but for some reason, she didn't want her kids to know. All the better. Murphy smiled innocently as the girls passed and looped a friendly arm over Katie's shoulders as they all went into the kitchen. "I love cookies. Ye found the key ta me heart, Katie. I'd sell me brother for a batch o' fresh cooked oatmeal raisin or double chocolate chip cookies."

Connor looked up from where he was putting a freshly sanded leg back on a chair. "Oh, aye, Murph's got a sweet tooth ye wouldn't believe. In fact, he did try ta sell me ta the baker back home when we were lads for a package o' apple tarts. Old Mrs. Brandt said I wasn't worth six tarts, though. Shattered me fragile boyhood ego. Ta this day I can't look at a tart without feelin' a bit down."

Even Dhurata smiled at that.

* * *

As always, let me know what you think, please!

-MBA

Edited to add: Okay, I am a shameless Norman Reedus fan and I just watched Deuces Wild for the first time the other night. So- very- hot. Yeah, he does make bad look so delicious. Of course, because I can't seem to watch anything with him in it without writing, I did a one-shot here at FFN called 'Maelstrom' about his character, Marco. I believe it's under Miscellaneous Movies, if anyone's interested in checking it out.

(end shameless self promotion)


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